“Mallett would.” In his bad-cop voice, Rawlins said, “If she contacts you, we need to know immediately. If you harbor her or Mallett, your parole officer will be the first person I call.”
Wes scowled at him. “Don’t threaten me, Clemson. I’m not afraid of jail. Find my girl, make sure she’s safe. That’s all I care about.” He opened the front door. “Now get out of here and get to it.”
Wilson paused on the threshold. “You have my number, Wes.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Once Wilson was through the door, Wes latched the screen and slammed the door. Locks snapped.
The two deputies walked back to their SUV. Wilson said, “I don’t think he had a clue about any of it.”
“He seemed genuinely upset,” Rawlins said, then chuckled. “And actually took offense when I questioned his truthfulness.”
“That’s Wes,” Wilson said. “He’s a crook, not a liar.”
11:23 p.m.
Wes turned off lights as he made his way back to his bedroom.
As soon as he cleared the doorway, an arm came out from behind the door, hooked his throat in the bend of the elbow, hauled him up against a hard chest, and applied choking pressure to this windpipe.
“Not one word,” he was told in a growl.
With his air cut off, he couldn’t have uttered a peep. He wouldn’t have even if he could. He was crooked, not courageous.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a dark form—a woman, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him—at the window that overlooked the front yard. She was peering through a slit in the blinds.
Wes was about to run completely out of air by the time she said, “They’re gone.”
The arm around his throat relaxed, then let go. He rubbed his Adam’s apple, croaking, “Brynn?”
“It’s me.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m okay.”
She walked toward him, gradually taking shape as she got closer. He could see her a little better when the guy turned on the bathroom light, but he kept the door open only a crack.
For the first time in years, Wes saw his daughter’s face, and, even as deeply shadowed as it was, he was struck by how beautiful she was. Like her mother. She looked tired and a little worse for wear, although she didn’t appear to be injured.
They’d been out of touch since their last parting, which had been acrimonious. Despite what the deputies had concluded, Wes truly hadn’t expected her to seek him out. But here she was, and he couldn’t think of anything to say.
When it became obvious by the lengthy silence that she couldn’t, either, he said, “So you did come running to Papa.”
“Only because I was out of options.” She was assessing his appearance, as he was hers. “Why penguins?”
He pulled the baggy legs of his pajama bottoms out to his sides as though about to curtsy. “They were markdowns at the store.”
“You really work for Walmart?”
“I go in two hours early tomorrow on account of Black Friday. It’ll be a zoo, but I don’t work the crowd. I spend my shift up in a security booth that’s got all these video screens. On the lookout for shoplifters.”
“You know all their tricks.”
“Most. I’m a bit rusty. Thieves have gone high tech. But so has catching them.”
“Is that why you’ve gone straight? Fear of getting caught never stopped you before.”
“Hmm. Still bitter, I see.”
“Your sense of humor may charm everyone else, but it was lost on me a long time ago,” she said coolly.
Wes harrumphed and turned around to confront the tall form silhouetted by the bathroom light. “You’re—”
“The bush pilot.”
Wes looked him over and snorted with disfavor. “From what I hear, you’re the source of my daughter’s troubles.”
“You’ve got it backwards. Until I flew cargo for her last night, life was good. It’s been fucked up ever since. So, as warm and tender as this family reunion is, can we move on to why we’re here?”
“Which is what?”
“We need a getaway car. What can you steal?”
Chapter 26
11:27 p.m.
The pilot tipped his head toward Wes. “This is the man?”
“Well, he is,” Brynn said.
“The one you lived with.”
“In a serious relationship. Just as I said.”
“Yes, but you deliberately led me to believe—”
“I can’t help that you jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“Like hell.”
Wes had been following the exchange with interest. Brynn seemed to suddenly remember that he was there. She mumbled an introduction. “This is Wes. Dad, Rye Mallett.”
Wes said, “Can’t say that it’s been a pleasure so far.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Was crushing my windpipe necessary?”
“Might’ve been. I wasn’t taking any chances.”
Sounding put out with both of them, Brynn asked, “Is coffee a possibility?”
While Wes was making coffee, Mallett went around to all the windows in the living area and made certain that the blinds were tightly drawn. He also checked the bolt on the front door.
When the coffee was ready, Wes and Brynn sat down at the table across the chessboard from each other. Mallett perched on the barstool. Mallett’s eyes were as watchful as a hawk’s. Or as a pilot’s, Wes supposed. Seek-and-avoid. Wasn’t that the aviation phrase? He was also alert to every sound.
Wes recognized the symptoms of feeling cornered and restless. He figured Mallett wasn’t new at getting out of scrapes. He looked the type.
“How did you get in?” Wes asked him.
“You taught Brynn a trick or two about housebreaking.”
Wes turned to her. “You came through the window?”
“Just like you taught me.”
Wes was pleased. “Then I guess I did something right by you. Cops inside. You didn’t make a sound. Good work.”
She didn’t acknowledge his praise. “We came by taxi, but had the driver let us out a few blocks from here. We walked the rest of the way, saw the sheriff’s SUV at the curb, and the two deputies on your porch. We went around back to wait until they’d left. Your bedroom window was open about an inch.”
“After sleeping in a cell block for years at a time, you appreciate breathing fresh air.”
“Rawlins didn’t notice the raised window when he came into the bedroom. It was open just enough so that we could hear your conversation.”
“Was everything he and Wilson told me the truth?”
“More or less,” Brynn replied.
“Which? More? Or less?”
“Neither Rye nor I harmed the man at the airport. We’re actually very worried about him.”
“I believe that. What’s the ‘but’?”
“But I do have something that Richard Hunt perceives as his.”
Wes slumped. “Your mother died afraid of this very thing.”
“Of what thing?”
“Afraid that you had gotten the gene, and that one day it would manifest itself.”
Brynn sighed. “Relax, Dad. I didn’t inherit your bent for stealing.”
“I don’t steal,” he said. “I just—”
“Take stuff that doesn’t belong to you,” Mallett remarked.
Wes shot him a look. “Not out of meanness, or envy, or greed. Nothing like that. Just…”
“Just…?”
“Convenience.”
“I see. Thanks for the clarification.” Mallett raised his coffee mug in a mock toast.
Wes went back to Brynn. “What do you have that the senator perceives is his?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“They could cut out my tongue before I’d rat you out.”
“I know that. But the less you know, the better for you. I don’t want to get you into trouble.” She looked at Mallett with annoyance. “Never mind what Rye said. We don’t want you to steal a car for us. But if you have one we could borrow, it would be a big help.”
“Does it have to do with that sick little girl the deputies mentioned?”
Brynn gave a small nod. “Please don’t ask me for more details than that.”
“Okay. But based on what Wilson and his partner told me, you’re not just dodging them. You’ve got some much rougher characters after you, too.” He pointed his chin at the cuts on Rye’s left hand. “The fight in the garage?”
“Timmy,” Mallett said. “He’s a twisted kid with lots to prove.”
“Meaning dangerous.”
“High-octane dangerous.”
Wes rubbed his hand across his mouth and chin. Focused on Brynn, he said, “Sweetheart—”